Broken Rules of Dueling
by PowerOfFail
Summary: Spoilers: DH. --12 years after the war it's Victoire's birthday, George mourns, Fred pokes George, Bill must explain something he'd rather leave alone, and Harry has to deal with the guilt he's felt since the final battle.
1. Good Mourning

A/N: Woooh so I'll put this at the beginning of the story, cuz I know how at the end, it ruins the whole 'ending' feeling.  
First up on the agenda: THE **DISCLAIMER. **Now, this might be a shock to the system, but...**I DON'T (as in do not) own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters. That would be JK Rowling who owns it. If I did, Fred wouldn't be "dead". **

aaand...Er, Spoiler Warning!! So, if you haven't read Deathly Hallows by now (and I don't understand why you wouldn't have), go read the book now, then come back and read this!! or read this, and not read DH, and then have something spoiled. so nyah. your choice.

Okay, let's get something straight. FRED IS NOT DEAD. This is what would HYPOTHETICALLY happen in the canon universe. (I know, denial, denial, denial...)

Right, so, something that needs to be explained about Bill and HP's POVs before ya get there. They both remember something George said at Fred's (hypothetical) FUN-eral, but they remember different things. What Bill remembers is George's informal (hypothetical) euology for Fred. Harry remembers what happens after all the normal FUN-eral stuff, and like what took place at the end when everyone breaks up into their little groups and remembers the dead, and talk and blah blah blah, yah you know what I mean.

And lastly: flame it, like it, praise it, hate it, review it, or don't. I don't really mind if you flame it. However, constructive critisism is always welcome. Nywho, enjooooy...now...onto the fic. (ps. the name doesn't get explained in the F&G POVs, you gotta wait for Bill's POV to understand it.)

* * *

It was an unusually chilled morning when the sun arose on May 2nd, despite the brilliant sunshine. Everything was still, as not even the birds had awoken from their slumber and greeted the world. There was a faint pop, followed by the creaking of iron gates opening, then closing; and through them came a young man.

His hair was striking red, and in the rising sun it looked like a lone spark of fire. In the dim light his skin seemed pale, and it made his freckles stand out prominently. His eyes, which were normally filled with laughter, showed great sadness on this day. His robes were an interesting shade of magenta that clashed with his hair. There was the golden "WWW" (emblem of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes) pinned on the front of it, and on the right shoulder, there was a 'G' embroidered there. He walked through the graveyard, where broken and tattered headstones littered the ground, avoiding stepping on any as he wound his way among them.

Eventually he came to a stop at a white headstone that looked fairly new compared to the ones around it. It was under a tree that had just recently blossomed in the fine spring of the year, and pink flowers shimmered with the morning dew overhead. The stone looked like a patch of snow amongst the green of the grass where it lay. He bent down, smirked at the tombstone, and said in a bright, cheerful voice that carried across the cemetery to the front gates, "Good Mourning, Fred!"

This was how George Weasley greeted his dead twin, the one who had died like a hero in the final battle against the Dark Lord Voldemort. George had been to the gravesite about a month before, for their birthday, April 1st, and he was back again, this time for Fred's death day. Twice every year, for the past 12 years, since that last battle, George would come and visit Fred. Talk to him; tell him what was going on, and always,_ always,_ greet him with a new pun.

"Good _mourning_, geddit, Fred?" He stopped smirking, "Yeah, I know, if you were here, you'd kick yourself for that one. Well no, you'd probably kick me. It _was_ worse than Holey, I'll say, but I don't think I've much to work with. Oh well, no, I guess I do. There are loads of death jokes out there, aren't there? Guess I wasn't really thinking."

George paused as he imagined his twin's response, "Thinking? When did you ever do _that_? Well, you've certainly lost your touch, mate." George sighed, and began to trace the name "Fred" engraved upon the stone.

"You know, mum was mad at me, when I told here you should be laid to rest here. She wanted to bury you up at the house, where everything just seemed to happy to have someone laying 6 feet under, as a constant reminder of the war, in my opinion. I guess I was being selfish, but I wanted you here, so I could come here alone, and talk, without everyone listening in, worrying if I was okay or not. If you were up at the Burrow, I wouldn't be able to do that, with everyone going in and out, I wouldn't have a moment's peace" George paused to let out a short laugh, "Yeah, it's still busy there, even though everyone's moved out. I bet you knew that though, you deadbeats always seem to know what's up. I hope you're not having too much fun without me: pranking with the Marauders, talking to Merlin even! Well even if you're having a grand time, I wish you were here."  
George paused again, this time to take in a sharp breath as he finished tracing the letter D. He began tracing again, this time, over the W in 'Weasley'

"I tell you that every time, you must be tired of hearing it. But it's true, none-the-less. I mean, in those first few years, heck, the first few weeks, it was hard. I couldn't mope around, you know? Everyone was so worried that I'd do something stupid, to go join you, that they couldn't grieve in peace and try to help themselves. Constantly being watched by Ginny, it's a pain, I'll tell you. And it wasn't just her either, Bill, Charlie, even Harry sometimes. Only Percy seemed to let me go, but then, he might have felt guilty, coming back alive when…"

George didn't finish his sentence, and he felt his eyes prickle with tears as he remembered the first few weeks after the war. Everyone was off celebrating, everyone who hadn't lost someone, and George certainly didn't fit into that category, nor did the rest of his family. For a while, George had been quiet, reserved; very much unlike the person he really was. After a while though, he started to come out of his daze, much to everyone's surprise, they thought it would take him much longer.

"I couldn't stop living, Fred. Never, ever could I give up. Even if I had wanted to join you, mate, I couldn't off myself. I saw what it did to the rest of the family: losing just one of us, imagine what they'd have felt if they'd lost _both_ of us. Then again, it might have been easier, losing both of us, because they wouldn't have had to see me everyday, hear me talk, watch me walk like I was you again...only not. I couldn't mourn either. It must have hurt them, to see me sad. I know they were hopeful, they'd forget for about a second, when they saw me. Thought I was you, but turned out to be me. I know they feel guilty about that, but I don't really blame them. Felt that way myself, when I'd pass by a mirror. I couldn't go to pieces though, they needed me, laughing and joking like we used too, like you were still there. Had to be happy for them, because they couldn't be happy for themselves, you know?" He fell silent again, and by now George had finished tracing Fred Weasley's name. George looked at the headstone and read the dates, _April 1, 1978-_ _May 2, 1997_. George glanced down at the words beneath it, and read the inscription he'd come up with himself, keeping in mind that Fred had once said something similar to the last part when talking about entering the Triwizard Tournament in their 6th year at Hogwarts, "_Fight with a smile on your face, and work against the odds, because what's life without a little adventure_?" He remembered the week that followed, before Fred's funeral. How miserable everyone had been, how he couldn't make them smile, he couldn't make them laugh when the truth was he couldn't bring himself to do either of those things. They relied on Fred and George to provide wisecracks in a tense situation to lighten the mood a little. So naturally, they turned to the twins, only to remember that Fred was gone, and George was in no fit state to make quips at that time, so they found it more difficult than they normally would have, coping with their loss. Without comic relief, anything can be hard.

When the dawn of the funeral had arrived, George had finally brought himself to smile; he couldn't let anyone walk away from Fred's funeral without laughing; especially when Fred himself had died with a smile, rather than a somber expression. George couldn't really remember what jokes he'd made, or how he'd gotten everyone to smirk as they remembered his twin, but he did remember mentioning how Fred was now the 'holy twin' as well as the 'saint like' one. Once George started joking around, everyone else did to, remembering all the pranks Fred had pulled and the laughter he'd shared. For everyone it'd made the pain dull a little. For George, however, it hadn't helped a bit. He felt although a part of him was missing, but that was to be expected. George hardly went anywhere without Fred, they'd been nearly inseparable. George remembered beating himself up for not being there with Fred when he'd died, walking into the Great Hall at Hogwarts ready to share a new pun with his brother, only to find his family crying over the one person who he thought wouldn't be able to die; certainly not like that, and certainly not right then. George remembered that in months from the Battle, he had actually sat Harry down, and asked Harry to tell him exactly how Fred had died. When Harry had finished telling the tale, George had to get something straight, "Okay. So let me see if I heard this the right way. Fred was offed…by a _wall_?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's what happened. It was really dusty and hard to see, he could've been killed by Avada Kedavra." Harry had replied grimly.

"Killed…by a wall." George had repeated, and then started laughing. Of all the ways to die, that certainly was not in anyway a glorious way to go. George honestly couldn't see why he hadn't asked for the details sooner. In sense, Fred's death was still tragic and terrible, but in a way, it was also hilarious (courtesy of the wall.)

He also remembered the terrible hollow feeling of the following days, when he'd awoken ready to discover a new joke idea Fred had cooked up in the middle of the night, like he'd often do, only to remember there was no Fred. George wasn't used to being alone, not in that sense. He always had Fred by him, for 20 years, and he was suddenly gone. Somehow, it didn't seem natural to him. Even when he had to stand alone, Fred was always there. To not have Fred there, by his side, ready to throw a quip in his direction was an unnerving thought. It wasn't something he had adjusted to too quickly or willingly. Even now sometimes, he would look to his right, expecting to see his twin smirking and ready with a witty comeback or joke. But that, of course, was only hope, and George would _never_ tell another soul that he felt still felt that, so many years after the war. Of course, George would never ask why it had happened, he would accept it. It tore him up inside, but he would move foreward, even if he occasionaly looked back with hope. They were Gred and Forge, and he knew, just like their names, that they carried a piece of eachother no matter how they were separated: between land and see or life and death, because that's how twins were. Because that's how Fred and George were.

A martin cry rang out from the tree above, and George was jerked back into the present.

"Well Fred, Harry told me that Dumbledore once said something about how 'to a well organized mind death is but the next great adventure.' You didn't have too much of an organized mind, I should know, I've seen your lab notes from when we were both still experimenting on the joke items before they were perfected (and before you went and got yourself blown up almost literally). I honestly don't understand how you could read them, I've tried to make sense of them, but it's like their written in another language. Did you know that one of them even has "Fred Rulz" written in the corner? Your spelling was atrocious in those days, and I doubt that it's much better now. Being dead probably doesn't improve your grammar abilities much. Back to what I was saying about death being a great adventure, I guess if life can have adventure in it, so can death. You always did like adventure. I suppose I got the quote wrong though, you certainly did fight with a smile, but you also died with one too. Of course, you did to work against the odds pretty much, got that part right at least." George told the tombstone, referring to the quote, he then continued, really just rambling now, "You also got your adventure, even if it wasn't the Triwizard Tournament like we'd been hoping for. But I'm glad we didn't put our names in the Goblet; did I ever tell you that? Imagine if we had, and one of us had been picked, and we had been in Cedric's place. Then again, I don't think it would make much difference now; one of us would have just died sooner. But then, the Wizarding world wouldn't know the best joke shop around and that would have been a terrible loss to the world, living without our jokes. Pah! I couldn't imagine something so saddening: a world, without _our_ humor. Shameful thoughts, those are." He paused again, realizing that he did know what the world was like without their humor, without Fred's humor. He recalled that he'd had to go 12 years without hearing a wisecrack from his twin, and that world was not a happy one. Rather hastily, he began talking about something different, without even realizing what he was talking about, "I reckon little Victoire is going to be mad at me. This'll be the 10th time I've missed her birthday now. I always come late, to her party's. Fred, Angelina and Roxanne are there now, as are the rest of the family I guess. I couldn't really skive off coming to see you though, even if it has been only about a month since I last visited." George explained. He didn't know why he was explaining it, but he felt it deserved an explanation, "I suppose I need to stop worrying about the past, you know, let it go, but I can't. If you were here now, I bet you'd give me an earful. Mind, that's about all I can take, seeing as I only have one ear. But either way, you'd be saddened by my lack of joke-enthusiasm. The shop is doing well, and Lee's been helping out a bit, but now with Quidditch season starting up again, he'll go back to commentating."

At this point, George glanced at his watch. It wasn't that late, but he'd been there a while. He didn't, however, move to stand up. He simply bowed his head in silence and this time he didn't continue talking. He merely went over the thoughts floating around in his head.

The hours passed, and George actually fell asleep; he'd never been very good at vigils anyway. When he finally woke up he could have sworn he felt something blowing his hair, but immediately dismissed the though, he then checked his watch again for the second time.

"Nearly 7:00! Merlin, if I don't get over to Bill's, Victoire might not forgive me this time, and Angelina might get worried." He stood up rather stiffly, stretched and brushed some dirt off his robes. He rubbed his eyes, and glanced back down at the headstone. "Well, I guess that's it for this year, brother mine. I'll see you in 11 months. Hah, isn't this a _grave_ parting of ways? Yeah, I know, I'm working on it. Well, until next time, I suppose." George paused for a moment, looking at the tombstone, hoping beyond hope that there would be some sign of Fred. He waited about a minute, then shook his head, scolding himself for being foolish. Fred hadn't been alive for 12 years, there was no way there would be any sign of him tonight.

Then, without another word, he turned away from the grave which he childishly felt held empty promises of returning his best friend because no one else was really to blame, and strode out of the gravesite and got to the iron gates. He quickly opened them, and closed them behind him. George quietly tapped it with his wand, and the locks slid back into place like metal snakes with a defiant 'click'. George looked up at the grave, in the very back under the tree with pink flowers, for the last time that year. He remembered how cemeteries used to send shivers down their spines (him and Fred that is.) To a normal person, they did that. But now, he was far too used to the eerie settings to be bothered by them too much. The wind blew sending some flowers off the branches, and George just imagined what Fred would say if he saw that he was buried under _pink_ flowers. He must be rolling in his grave. The once happy, shining face of George Weasley now looked tired and drawn as he looked at his twin's grave from the gate, where the white headstone could just be seen. He woudn't see it for another 11 months (though the thought of it would weigh heavy and constant on his mind), and in that time the weather would wear it down, and in the following years it would shine less brightly, although, as it dims there is a presense that lingers forevermore. The stone would fade to a dull gray, the name would become unreadable, it would crack and be left to look forgotten; unlike the memories that George would always cherish. Though the stone would erode, time would march on, and the earth would spin and continuially, George would never forget Fred. Never leave his memories of his twin behind, and come back to visit, until he too joined the land of the dead. George gave Fred's grave a somber Weasley-Twin-Salute, and with a small 'pop' Disapparated away from the scene that brought him so much misery.


	2. You Should Listen

"Living was struggling to do something impossible - to succeed, or die, knowing you had tried!" (Dragonriders of Pern, pg 139)

* * *

"Looks like it's _that_ day again." Came a somber voice.

A boy with striking red hair and freckles looked up from a table where he'd been dealing cards out to another wizard; younger than him, with mousy hair whose name was Colin Creevey.

"Yeah, I _know_ Lily, I know!" the redhead answered sounding annoyed. He turned back to Colin and continued dealing the cards. Colin didn't speak up, he knew better than to irritate Fred on his death day - which happened to be Colin's death day, as well as many others – as did most of the other people who knew him. Although, it seemed that today Lily had decided that she would try to speak to him for once. She really shouldn't. Speaking to Fred Weasley on May 2nd in a way that was sure to irritate him was almost like a taboo that most tried to avoid. They didn't avoid it out of fear (although, perhaps some did, for the fear of being on the wrong side of a nasty prank planned out by Fred was not something to be desired) but rather, out of respect for his feelings. He wasn't typically a sensitive boy, but he could lose his temper on this day rather quickly, and if he marked you down, he'd be sure to follow through with his threats.

"Well, don't you think you should go see him? He's your brother after all." Lily decided to press him. She didn't realize he didn't really need persuading to go see George.

"He's my brother?! I had no idea. Really, thank you for that bit of information!" Fred snapped in a very un-Fredlymanner.

"Fred! There's no reason to get sarcastic." A third person growled at the redhead, he had messy black hair and hazel eyes.

"Sorry James, I just…" Fred didn't finish his sentence, deciding instead to let it trail off. He'd never been great at expressing how he felt anyway.

"It's alright. So are you going to go or not?" James inquired.

Fred didn't reply, but instead busied himself with examining the table with feigned interest. On any normal day, Colin would have asked him to continue dealing the cards out so they could finish their game, but instead he decided to stay silent, and watched the former infamous prankster with apprehension. Colin, like Lily, James, and so many other wizards who knew Fred, was slightly concerned. Next to James, and his two best friends Sirius and Remus, Fred was perhaps the best prankster around with his twin George. The only problem was that Fred was quite dead, while George, however, was very much alive. The other dead souls had felt bad for Fred, and knew that twice a year he would float back down to earth, silent, and invisible, to sit in the graveyard with his twin (what they didn't know was that he tried to talk to George, and pushed the rules to see if George could hear him). It was against the rules, but Fred never had listened to rules and none of the other souls had felt like forcing him to obey this particular one. Fred and George had been separated by the war, and it was a miserable site to see one without the other. Although they both got over it faster than anyone had expected, there was always a lingering sadness in their eyes that had never been there before.

Fred was often irritated by their concern and pity. They were all dead also, they'd all left loved ones behind as well, they all had unfinished business left on earth, so why should he be special? Fred and George never had minded being special, being in the center of attention; but Fred didn't like getting attention if it meant he was being pitied. He'd fought in the war, and he'd seen his brother Percy apologize to the family, and come back to them. He even died laughing, which was something he had always wanted to do. Despite the fact that he'd been killed by a _wall_, he thought it was a pretty note-worthy death. He felt that this was not cause for sympathy and that the others really shouldn't waste their time pitying him. The only major problem he had with his death, was that he left his family and friends behind to be sad, and most of all, George. He hadn't meant to cause them all pain, and he hadn't died on purpose. If he had his way, he'd still be there cracking jokes and making fun of everyone like he used to do. However, he didn't have that choice, and he could only watch while everyone cried over him, and mourned him. He wished they wouldn't. It got tiresome after a while. It was rather boring also. Fred had wished many times that someone would just blow something up for the sake of destruction, everyone laugh about it, and get on with their lives. Finally, George seemed to get his brainwave, and did just that on Fred's funeral. He'd set off some Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz Bangs at the funeral, and blew up the original tombstone (partially because he hadn't thought the wording appropriately expressed who Fred was, and partially just because he wanted to blow something up) and made several jokes, he even said something about how Fred was now the 'holy twin' and how he was so, 'saint like'. Fred had been rather amused by that, and he'd felt better about leaving them behind, even if he wasn't entirely okay with it.

Standing up, Fred glanced around at the others, saying as he did so, "I'm going now; I guess that's not a surprise. I don't want to miss George's opening pun, you know. When he finally joins us, I'll make his life; no I mean death, rather interesting: throwing all his bad puns back at him." Fred flashed the typical Weasley Twin grin and everyone just nodded, not doubting for one moment that he wouldn't follow through with he'd just said. They all knew, as did Fred, that he could watch his twin from where he was. But Fred had never been contented with doing things in the ways of the rules during life, so why should he in death? Besides, he made him feel a bit better to be there with his twin, even if George couldn't see him, couldn't hear him, and couldn't be comforted by him.

Fred closed his eyes, and thought hard of where he wanted to go, rather than who he was going to meet there. He didn't want to think about the grief that George would greet him with before he had too. Oh, how it irked him that he could no longer speak to George, else Fred would be sure to scold him for his rather depressing demenor (even if Fred did understand where George was coming from). He spun around quickly pushing the grim thoughts away. When he opened his eyes, the sun was rising, and there was a faint pop. '_Ah, George's just arrived. Good thing I didn't miss him_.' Fred thought to himself. He watched as George picked his way threw the old tombstones that had been there long before Fred's (even stopping to apologize on one he'd accidentally stepped on), and he smiled at George's newest greeting.

Even though George couldn't hear him, Fred answered, "Thinking? When did you ever do _that_? Well, you've certainly lost your touch, mate." He chuckled a little, and watched as George began to trace his name. Fred's smile disappeared as quickly as the Golden Snitch in a blizzard as he listened to George begin talking. George always had something different to say; even it was from the past. It was either something he forgot to tell Fred, or just something he'd recently learned. But either way, he never told Fred the same old news even if Fred already knew it all.

George got to the part about the Burrow being busy, and Fred laughed, "Yeah, it always _was_ the center of everything. Never felt like anything could penetrate it, you and I. Not dark wizards, not war, not death. I guess we were wrong, it mustn't have felt like home, after I died." Fred didn't know why he said that. But it was true. Fred knew that George had hated the Burrow after he'd died. It, in sense, hadn't felt like the bright, warm place it had been from their childhood – when they'd both were still alive. Fred knew that George wasn't the only one who felt that way either. All the others, even Harry and Hermione had felt the change in the house. Fred knew that they all felt it would be empty without his and George's random pranks going off at any time. Of course, they hadn't reckoned on George making a quick rebound like he had.

'_No. George hadn't been happy, not for himself, only for the others. He hasn't been properly happy in 12 years' _Fred reminded himself painfully. It was true. George had realized that the more he shut himself away, the worse he was hurting his family, because even though he was there physically, they felt as though they'd lost both twins. So George had come back with more vigor than ever, even if it was mostly for show. Fred knew that George had put on a brave face for the world, even though inside he felt like he was half dead. It was true, of course, that George had found himself a wife, and had kids, just like he and Fred had always planned they would do, but he wasn't entirely, 100 percent happy the way he used to be before The War. George would probably never feel that way again, and Fred didn't blame anyone for that except himself, Voldemort, and Rookwood. It had hurt Fred to watch George pretend to be perfectly okay after his death, and struggle through when he should have been there to make George smile again. Of course, he couldn't do that because he was dead, and that knowledge only hurt Fred more. He might have not been in any physical pain, but the thought of George moving on with life even though he lost half himself, the thought of him reopening the joke shop alone and walking it's darkened, dusty room, cleaning the shelves made Fred feel riddled with guilt and it made him feel miserable as well.

What the others didn't know (the others being those who were living) was that Fred was suffering too. If George couldn't be apart from his twin in life, what made you think that Fred could be apart from George in death? Fred had been just as miserable as George had been, moping around, not the bright flame of laughter or the bringer of wisecracks that he had been in life. It wasn't until he saw George laugh again, and try to fight through the grief, and move forward that Fred pulled himself out of his misery and tried, for George's sake, to be happier. He'd hung out with the Marauder's (well, James Potter, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew was _not_ a Marauder in any of their opinions, not anymore anyway) and he'd pranked nearly all the dead that he'd once known. Fred had even gotten around to pulling the ultimate prank on Merlin of all wizards. Fred had only been slightly disappointed that Voldemort wasn't there so he could make his death worse. Honestly, just _imagine _being cooped up in the after life with one of the over-zelous Weasley Twins, especially when they hated you with a vengance and were now dead because of you and were thus seeking to make you miserable.

"Where's Voldy? Can't wait to joke about him, maybe I'll be able to kill him again." Fred had said cheerfully glancing around. He hadn't been afraid of his death, in fact, he'd accepted it. When he'd fought in the war, he realized that he'd every chance of dying. Fred had decided that what he was fighting for was worth it, and if he had to surrender his life for a better tomarrow, to contribute to Voldemort's death, then so be it. The only thing he hadn't counted on, was leaving George behind.

"The Dark Lord won't be here, we haven't won the battle _yet._ We shall know when the Order has won, and untli then, you cannot expect the Dark Lord to appear here in the afterlife. That fact aside, how do you expect someone whose soul has been severed to become as a full soul in the land of the dead?" his old potions teacher, Severus Snape had demanded of him.

For a moment, Fred had been tempted to point out his professor's use of the word 'severed' when that was very similar to his name, but decided against it and said, "Simple. I don't really care how, I just want it to happen to I can bore him to death!" It wasn't until after he'd spoken that he'd realized what he had said.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're all already dead!" Snape reminded him, none too kindly.

"Yeah, I know that, professor, but that doesn't mean there can't be a death for the dead, right George?" Fred called to his twin, more out of habit than expectation. He paused, waiting for George to back him up, and there was only silence. It hadn't really hit Fred until that moment that George wasn't there. He spun around, "Hey! Where's George?!"

"Oh, he's still alive" Sirius Black told him, looking slightly uncomfortable at being the bearer of this news.

"He's…alive…as in, not here?" Fred asked, unable to keep a note of panic out of his voice.

"Er, that's what 'alive' insinuates" Sirius replied, still looking uncomfortable while the others watched in silence, wondering how Fred would take the news.

Fred didn't respond immediately, he just looked away, thinking hard. Quickly he and many others left for the living world, to watch the final battle. Fred was silent through the whole spectical in the forest, through the whole Voldemort/Harry/Elder Wand confrontation in the Great Hall. He couldn't decide if he was glad or not that George was alive. After all, he'd always figured that if one of them died in the war, the other would surely die as well. He hadn't thought of possibility of only one of them dying. Fred thought of how George must be feeling right then, lonely, in shock probably, that was how he felt. Fred also thought of everyone else, how they would react. Sure, they wouldn't take it as bad as George, but this wouldn't be a victory lap around the qudditch pitch for them either. Fred would later feel bad for hoping it, but he wanted George to die too, seeing as there was no way he could go back, so they could still laugh together. But he knew that was wrong, because the rest of the family needed George there because he couldn't be there: the thought of George having to make jokes on his own and leave his sentences unfinished made Fred feel uneasy. It wasn't until the realized that he too, would have to make jokes and leave sentences hanging in midair for George to finish that he felt slightly less joyful than he had been feeling moments prior.. He hadn't done anything without his twin, well nearly anything, and he certainly didn't want to start now.

Fred sighed and watched as his twin fell silent and bowed his head, this time not speaking up again. He had a feeling George was going to fall asleep, but he couldn't really blame him. The joke shop was a demanding business, and coming here to early in the morning wasn't all that much of a thrill and it was a killer on what little sleep time George got. Fred took his usual seat next to his grave, and poked George on the head, knowing as he did so that he was breaking some rules. He honestly didn't care.

"Worse than a muggle, you are." Fred scolded him, "they say all the time that Muggles don't look for magic, so they can't see what's in front of them. But living wizards are just as bad. If you looked up, listened carefully, you'd be able to hear me. But nope, I come here, ready to talk to you every year, and you ignore me! It gets rather irksome after a while, you know. Maybe I'll just stop coming down." Fred pushed his bangs out of his face. They'd been that way for 12 years. The thing about being dead was that you couldn't change your appearance, and it bothered Fred to no end. Despite the fact that he was dead, he had wanted to keep his looks like George's, but much to his dismay, the dead can't do that. Fred reflected on a time after the war, when George would have actually listened for Fred, to hear him and what not. But about four years after the war, Angelina had convinced George that nothing could ever bring Fred back and there was just no possible way that Fred could contact him. Fred poked George harder on the head as he thought about Angelina: Angelina, who had been _his_ girlfriend before he died, was now George's wife. They now had two kids, Fred (named after him of course) and Roxanne.

"You're going to have to have a word with Fred, dear brother, but by that I don't mean me…although it would be nice if you responded to me every once in a while. No, what I meant by that was your son!" Fred decided to tell George, "He might have my namesake, but he's turning out to be a bit too much like the way I remember Percy being at that age! Imagine if someone with my name became a prefect…or worse a Head Boy! The shame, George, I don't think I'd be able to bear it." Fred clutched at his chest dramatically, before continuing, "But of course, it could be worse. He could be put in Slytherin. But not all Slyther's are bad. Regulus, Sirius' little bro, he's actually kind of. Well, I don't know exactly what he is, but he's certainly not a git like the rest of them. Snape was a good guy, Harry told you that, and it still blows my mind. I can't really imagine him being on our side. The way he stalks around like an evil overgrown bat!" Fred had always disliked Snape, and still did. It had been Snape who had given Fred and George most of their detentions during their time at Hogwarts, despite the fact that they were both rather accomplished potion makers, "yeah we weren't a bunch of dunderheads, showed them all up, didn't we, George?" Fred remembered how everyone thought that he and George were dumb, unlike their brother's who had come before them. No one had realized that their pranks were actually very cleverly thought out, and it took some brains to be infamous jokesters like them.

Fred quieted down for the most part, and watched his twin as the hours passed and the daylight began to fade into twilight, threatening to envelope the world in the darkness of night. When the time reached 7:00, Fred blew on George's head, very much the same way that Peeves had once woken him up at Hogwarts. It worked, and George woke up.

"Well, I guess that's it for this year, brother mine. I'll see you in 11 months. Hah, isn't this a _grave_ parting of ways? Yeah, I know, I'm working on it. Well, until next time, I suppose" George said as he stood up.

"Pathetic!" Fred informed him, even though George couldn't hear or see him, he continued, "Even Hermione could have come up with a better pun that that. Well I suppose you're right, George. I'll see you in 11 months, I guess. Unless you go and get yourself killed in a joke shop experiment, but don't do that. Because if you do, I mean, that's even more pathetic than a wall death!" He paused and said, "I dont know if I've ever told you this, and I know you can't hear me. But, do you remember what Sirius told us when Dad was bit by Nagini? The reason we weren't in the Order was because we didn't understand that there were things worth dying for. I understood that when we went in the battle to fight, and to win. I still understand that, I knew what I was doing, I'm proud to have died for the cause. I lived to make the world a better place, and I died for that same cause. It was a cause worth dying for. You should know that, so stop acting like a stupid sod and cheer up!" Fred whispered, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. He had died at twenty, but he had aged many years in widsom, a fact that was hard to connect with Fred Weasley, despite it's truth.

"Good bye, George." Fred called as George turned away, his expression changing to hide the grief and wisdom that he had gained through death. He paused before whispering very quietly so that his words were lost in the passing wind, "Good bye, for now."

George got the gates and slipped out as quietly as he had come in. Fred saw him turn back and salute the grave, and Fred saluted him back. Fred heard the faint popping sound that signified that George had gone off to see to whatever business it was he needed to do (probably drop by their older brother Bill's house to say Happy Birthday to Victoire, Bill's daughter). Fred looked back at his tombstone, and read the inscription that George had put there. George was no longer there to listen for Fred, but he spoke up anyway, trying to rid himself of the mature things he'd said moments before, "Yeah. Death certainly is an adventure, but, not nearly as much as being alive with you, brother." He recalled what George had told him that Dumbledore said to Harry earlier. He sounded rather put out, but he reminded himself of his purpose, and continued briskly now referring to the tree under which he was buried, "Although I still can't believe they buried me under a tree that has _pink_ flowers." Fred ran his hand over the smooth stone, and without another word, he too left the scene of the cemetery, the only place he could come and talk to George any more, the only place that really still connected him with his dear, living twin.


	3. Not Everyone Survived

Bill rubbed his eyes, and put his head in his hands. It had been a long day. His daughter, Victoire, had turned 10, and they'd had a party as usual. Almost everyone had come, and George had come late, which was also very normal for that day. The only exceptions were Teddy and Charlie. Teddy Lupin, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonk's son, was currently in his second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Bill chuckled as he remembered his time there. The other who was absent was Bill's younger brother Charlie. Charlie was in Romania working with dragons, as he had been since he left Hogwarts, and had owled Bill earlier that week to announce that he wouldn't able to make it. Bill glanced at an old family photo he kept on the desk, and his heart skipped a beat. _No, there had been one more person absent._ Bill reminded himself forcefully. Fred hadn't been there either; in fact, Fred was the reason for George's tardiness. Bill smiled for a moment, amused by the fact that he could find something similar to what had happened to the twins a long time ago when Fred would do something and George would suffer the repercussions of it (it went both ways, of course: George doing something that would later affect Fred in not the best of ways.) However, this time, when Fred _had _broken a major rule, it resulted in George ultimately suffering. Bill's smile slid off his face as he thought of the lone Weasley twin. He knew it wasn't really Fred's fault that he'd gotten killed, but that didn't hurt George any less. Fred wouldn't have ever left George behind, not if he could help it. However, Fred hadn't had much choice in the matter of living or dying. Fred breaking rules, it was a common thing, but Bill still couldn't help but want to scold him for breaking the rules of a duel. It wasn't a written law, but rather, an unspoken one, that when dueling: You simply don't laugh, joke around, and basically not pay attention to what's going on around you, the same goes for war, paticularly a war with the darkest wizard of the age (even if IS only his underlings that you're fighting...). Fred, being Fred, had of course been joking, and laughing and hadn't noticed the wall blowing up and gotten killed. Or well, that's what it sounded like the way that Percy told the tale of his death. Although he missed that goofy bloke of a little brother, Bill didn't doubt it for a moment that Fred would be careless like that.

He shifted a piece of paper on the desk, when a voice came from behind the doorway to his room, "Dad, I was wondering…" the sentance faded before it was finished.

Bill looked up to see his oldest child, Victoire, standing in the doorway clutching what looked like a promising new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes joke item, and wearing the new necklace with a Victorian font-style V charm that she'd gotten for her birthday from her Uncle George.

"Hey Victoire, what was that you were wondering?" Bill asked, motioning with his hand for her to come into the room and take a seat.

"Well…" she began, trailing off. She came into the room and set the box down, pulled up a chair, then continued, "I was wondering, why is Uncle George always late? I mean, he always says he has business to attend to, but why does he schedule it for _today _when he knows it's my birthday? And it can't be joke shop business, because I asked Fred and Roxanne, and they said that they didn't know what he was doing. I'm pretty sure he'd tell them if it was. I asked Angelina too, and she didn't answer, just changed the subject quickly and wouldn't let me bring it up again." She said all this very fast, as if she thought she was asking something forbidden. When she finished, she gave Bill such a piercing stare, he decided it was best that she learned about the fifth uncle she didn't know she had; otherwise, Victoire would probably bother him until he told her, or ask someone else and get the distorted version, perhaps through a certain joke product that Fred and George had invented for spying on the Order many years ago.

Bill turned to face Victoire directly, silently cursing his younger brother and his dead twin for their impeccable timing, then began speaking, "Well, as you know, you're birthday is the downfall of Voldemort."

"His second downfall, you mean" Victoire cut in.

"Er, yeah. And of course, you know that there was a war, and all of your uncles were involved in the war and fought against him." Bill continued, "And, as you know, not everyone survives in war, in fact, many people died. On the last day, this day, twelve years ago, there were many casualties in the final battle. No one really thinks about the deaths, they don't want to, it's too painful. But the losses are evident."

"Who died?" Victoire demanded.

"I'm getting there! Now then, your five uncles…" Bill started, but was again interrupted.

"What? I only have _four _uncles, Dad." Victoire said.

"No, you have five." Bill told her, remembering her fifth uncle, remembering his death, how guilty Bill had felt. He was Fred's older brother; he was supposed to protect him. But he couldn't, and Fred had died. He remembered that Percy had told him many times that it wasn't his fault, if anyone's it was Percy's. Percy was his big brother too, and he had been right next to Fred when it happened. Despite all this though, Bill still felt guilty, and he knew that George felt guilty too. Fred was his twin, and George felt although he should have at least been there, even if he couldn't have stopped it. Bill wonder, not for the first time, if George was envious that Percy had been there in Fred's last moments. That Percy had been the reason for Fred's last smile, and for that, was George jeleous that he'd not shared his twin's final laugh?

"Dad?" Victoire prompted, breaking into his train of thoughts.

"What? Oh, as I was saying. Yes you had five uncles, and your fifth uncle, well; he and George were very close." Bill continued.

"Was his name Fred?" Victoire asked sharply.

"Yes. His name was Fred, how did you know that?" Bill asked, feeling that if she already knew this, then the conversation was a waste of time.

"Well, you started out the conversation by saying people had died in the final battle, that I had five uncles not four, and that he was close to Uncle George. Well, I figured whoever he was; he must have died during The Battle of Hogwarts. _He _must have a guy's name, and if he was close to George, then George probably would have named one of his children after him. So, I took a shot and decided on Fred." Victoire answered quickly, although this was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, yes. His name was Fred, and you're right, George did name his son Fred after him. You see, Fred and George, they were twins. As close as they can get, they opened the joke shop together while they were still in school. They were both beaters for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You hardly ever saw one without the other; it was always Fred and George, George and Fred: never just George or just Fred. But the war changed that. You know your Uncle's missing ear? The first thing he did when he woke up was make a crack about being 'holey' to Fred. He was always a joker, as was Fred. They were quite a duo." Bill informed her, "If you must know, Fred even died laughing. Your Uncle Percy was there, as were Harry, Ron and Hermione."

Victoire was silent for a moment, and then spoke up, "So, Uncle George, he misses my birthday every year to go and visit Fred?" she paused, and Bill thought angrily for a moment about the way she said it made it sound although she didn't think that Fred and George being twins was such a big deal. She then continued "And he was the only one, the only casualties among the Weasley's?" She looked up at her father, he wasn't sure what he saw in her face, hope maybe? His anger disolved instantly as he forcefully reminded himself that she was just a kid, and she didn't know Fred and George when Fred had been alive, so she couldn't understand just how close they had been.

"Yes. He was the only one." Bill replied heavily, recalling the time after the war, when everything seemed so bleak. One of the only things he could really remember was that he just knew that Fred was dead, George seemed gone too, and Voldemort was no longer in power. Then, much to everyone's surprise and amusement, George blew up Fred's tombstone at Fred's funeral. He told jokes, and even let off fireworks. He wasn't about to let anyone think of Fred in a mournful way. He had said, "Fred wouldn't have had us moping, you know. He would have come up here, laughing and making jokes about everyone, known exactly what to say to get you all smiling again. And in his honor, I don't think we should mourn as tradition, we should laugh and tell jokes; remember all the good times we had. We can't remember him as the man who died, nope. We should remember him as the man who went down fighting, who refused to stop laughing, even in death." With that little speech, everyone had cheered up, and the mood had lightened considerably. The twins' good mood's had always been infectious and they could get anyone to smile. It was rumored that one of their pranks, back in their early years at Hogwarts, had gotten even Professor Snape to smile, even if for only a few seconds. Bill was pretty sure that was only a rumor, as he knew Professor Snape, but if it actually had happened, then more power to Fred and George. Or, well George, rather.

Victoire was silent, taking in everything Bill had told her, "You all right?" he asked her.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just guess it explains some things. I remember Lee going up to Harry, asking him if George was there, and Harry had replied saying, 'Nope, not yet. He's still off talking to Rapier.' I didn't know who Rapier was, and was about to ask, but then Harry continued, 'We're lucky, he was the only one. I don't think we could have handled it if there had been more.'" Victoire had never said, 'Uncle' Harry, as he had told her to refer to him as just 'Harry'. For some reason calling him Uncle bothered him.

"Ah well, during the war, we had a radio broadcast called "Potterwatch.'" Bill began.

"I know about that, it was how the Order got news out to the other members, because the other stations didn't have any news, only being controlled by Voldemort and what not." Victoire dismissed the explanation impatiently.

"Quite right. Everyone had their code names, Lee was River, Remus was Romulus, Kingsley was River," Bill continued, feeling sad at the mention of Teddy's father, "And Fred, he was Rapier. Or, if you want to get technical, he was either Rapier or Rodent. He and Lee had an argument over the radio about it in fact. Ask Lee sometime, I'm sure he'd enjoy telling you about it." Bill laughed as he remembered that particular broadcast then became a bit more somber, addressing the issue of what Harry had said, "But yes, Harry was right. Fred was the only one we lost, and he was also right in saying it would have been much harder to handle if we'd lost more. I believe, when he was saying that, he meant it the way I just said it, as well as in reference to George. We were worried George would try to join Fred." He didn't tell her that they'd all felt that George's humor had died along side Fred, and that they had lost the person they knew as George, even if he was still there physically.

"No! Uncle George has much more sense than that; he wouldn't have, because he would know how much it would hurt all of you! That probably wasn't his only reason, he must have had more. If he was as close to Fred as you say he was, then Uncle George would have stayed to continue Fred's legacy. Continue the joke shop in his honor. Not only that, if Fred is just like Uncle George, or well as alike as you imply, then if Uncle George had done that, Fred probably wouldn't have welcomed him back with open arms, but instead would have been _really _annoyed." Victoire said, scolding her father for even thinking such things. Her Uncle seemed like a brave man who wouldn't resort to those tactics.

"Right again, Victoire. But, you can't blame us for feeling that way. I know we all feel guilty about it now, because we underestimated him, but we did what we felt we needed to do at the time." Bill said immediately feeling defensive at being chastised by a 10 year old. Then he took a moment to roll over in his head all that Victoire said. She seemed to be grasping all this much quicker than a 10 year old should. She must be much smarter than he had originally given her credit for, "So, do you think you can forgive your Uncle George for coming late every year and missing your parties?" Bill looked directly into her eyes, although willing her to forgive George.

"I suppose so." Victoire answered a little ruefully.

Bill sighed, and picked up the old photo he kept on his desk, and handed it to her, "Do you see them? Fred's the one with the jumper that has an F, while George has the G." he answered. But even as he spoke he wasn't sure who was who. Sometimes the twins would switch sweaters, and pretend to be the other; or they would walk around calling themselves Gred and Forge.

Victoire put her finger on George, who didn't appreciate being poked, then promptly stuck his tongue out at her, while she said, "He has two ears." She then moved her finger over to Fred, who had been laughing at George a few moment's before, and looked furious as she poked him with her finger, "So this is Fred? He seems…" She wasn't sure what she was trying to say. In the picture she noticed that Fred and George couldn't have been older than 18 or 19, "They seem much happier than Uncle George ever does, even when he's laughing." She finally decided to say.

"Yes, losing a twin will do that to someone." Bill said, taping his chin with his finger thoughtfully as he watched Victoire look over the entire picture.

"So, this is Harry, Ron, Hermione, Aunt Ginny, you, mum, Uncle George, Fred, Uncle Percy…he doesn't seem to happy, Uncle Charlie, Grandma, and Grandpa" She pointed them out, and as she did so, noticed how they all seemed much younger and happier; with the exception of Percy (who she assumed had just had a rather nasty prank pulled on him).

Bill noticed that though many times in this conversation she'd said Fred's name, she'd never called him 'Uncle', "You're never going to call Fred _uncle_, are you?" he mused.

"No. I don't believe I will. Actually, I'm not sure why I call Uncle George that either. It seems too formal, for either of them. As for Fred, well I don't even know him, Uncle or not." She said decisively.

"Well, I know George won't mind if you stop calling him Uncle. He said that it makes him feel old when you lot do that." Bill explained, and she started to giggle. She thought it was hard to imagine her Uncle George being old, when he was just like a kid trapped in an adult's body.

"Well, young lady, I do believe it's time for bed. New age or not, you still need your sleep." Bill said sternly.

"Yes, Father." Victoire said, doing an impersonation of her cousin Fred, who acted very much like their Uncle Percy at that age (George, however much everyone expected him to be, was not ashamed of having a son who followed in Percy's footsteps even if he was Fred's namesake, so long as he didn't turn his back on his family.)

There was silence for a moment, and both father and daughter began laughing and Bill ushered her off to bed, new joke shop item/gift in tow. For the rest of the night, he thought about the war, and his younger brothers. He thought about the loss his family had suffered, and how much George had suffered. Despite the fact he would act just as he had when Fred was there, they all knew he felt inner turmoil, and even after the funeral they all had kept a close watch on him. It wasn't until he'd married Angelina that they had relaxed a little bit, feeling although he had finally moved on. Bill thought of his own grief, and how he felt guilty about not protecting his little brother, and he thought of how Percy must have felt. He had only just come back to the family, only just made up with everyone, when BAM! His little brother died right in front of him (well literally speaking, it was right next to him), doing what he did best: teasing him, making a joke, and laughing. Bill remembered how he couldn't believe it, when he walked into the Great Hall and had seen Percy coming up to him, looking although he was about to cry, and told him through a strained voice what had happened. He remembered disbelieving Percy, doubting him, even asking him if he was under the Imperius curse. Looking back on it, that wasn't the most brilliant thing to do really, when someone is put under the Imperius curse, they're not likely to tell you, "Oh yes, and by the way, I'm Impursed.", but Bill hadn't been thinking, he'd just been told that one of his family member's had died, and most of all one of the one's who had seemed rather invincible. That was something dumb to believe too, that Fred and George were invincible. Bill knew that most of the family thought the same as he did, that Fred and George were inseparable; one couldn't survive the war when the other didn't. How wrong they had all been, and it had been a nasty shock when they had found out too. When Bill had seen Fred lying on the ground, laughter still evident on his face, he thought of how George was going to react. He wasn't sure if perhaps, even after the ear incident, if the twins had foolishly thought like the rest of the family and believed that they couldn't be separated. Of course, that was before Bill realized that if Fred was dead, George could be too, as could anyone, and when he caught site of George walking into the Great Hall smirking, he felt sick with worry and grief. He knew George would try to turn it into a joke, but after that, what would he do? Try to kill Rookwood, or maybe try to join Fred? Bill remembered what George had said in the Great Hall, when he had first seen Fred's body when he fell beside his twin's head, "Hey, c'mon, get up. Most of your jokes are funny, mate, but this one isn't. Get up!" George had commanded. When Fred hadn't responded, George had looked at Bill and said quietly, "This isn't a joke is it?" Bill only nodded his head, unable to speak, and George turned back to the fallen joker, "Can't believe you. Dead before the final battle is even over. Here you were saying you couldn't wait to throw the after party when we won, guess you were _dead _wrong, Gred." George really had a thing with puns that year. But after his little joke, he fell silent, bowed his head, and didn't speak again until Fred's funeral, when his first word's were, "You know, Fred and I always loved to blow stuff up" and without further adieu, had promptly blown up his twin's headstone and went into his informal eulogy. Everyone had been shocked by the bluntness of his actions, but then began to smirk, all thinking along the same lines, "What else could you expect at the funeral of Fred Weasley, especially when his twin is in charge of the affair?"

Bill chuckled weakly, remembering Fred and George when they were younger, during the war, before Fred's death. He couldn't help but laugh at all the past pranks they had pulled, even if at the time it hadn't seemed too funny. He specifically remembered the time when he first came home with long hair and Fred and George had thought it would be funny to make it look although it had been cut off when it really wasn't. To that day, Bill still wasn't sure how they managed to only make his hair seem cut; when in fact it was just as long as before. He remembered that they had told him their mother had cut it off while he was sleeping, and when he had confronted her, how silly he felt when he realized he'd fallen for one of their pranks. Bill sighed, sliding into his bed, next to his wife, Fleur. He bid her good night, and turned over. He was so sure he wouldn't be able to sleep, but much to his surprise, he was nearly asleep by the time his head hit the pillow. His last thoughts of the day were of a time back before the war, when they all could laugh with ease and not worry about looking over their shoulders and before they were missing a twin, a son, a friend. And lastly, he thought of his family, of George, and of Fred, who had died like a hero, laughing in the middle of battle, trying to make the world a better place, by being a walking oxymoron. By bringing smiles to people's faces, and jinxing off the one's on the Death Eater's, and by joking, even in his final hour, and dying with a smile on his face.


	4. You're Not to Blame

"Right, see you later." Harry Potter, the Wizarding World's hero from the Second War, told his brother-in-law Bill. Turning to his niece he said, "once again, happy birthday Victoire. Just imagine, in two years, you'll be off to Hogwarts." He smiled, remembering the school he had attended.

"Bye, Harry, Aunt Ginny, thank you for the doll!" Victoire called out from where she was currently hugging her Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione good bye. Harry and Ginny had gotten her an old muggle doll made from china. They knew that despite the fact that unlike Wizarding dolls, the muggle doll didn't move around, Victoire still appreciated them.

Harry laughed and took his wife's hand, Ginny (who was having difficulty balancing their 2 year old daughter Lily, and holding Harry's hand at the same time, although this he didn't notice), motioned to his sons James, 6, and Albus, 4, for they were going home.

As they left, Harry nodded to Angelina who was standing by the door looking irritated. Harry understood her frustration, George should have been to the party nearly an hour ago, but so far as it had gone every year, George didn't even get there in time to be considered fashionably late. Angelina just nodded back to Harry, keeping her lips sealed. Harry had a feeling that George was going to get a talking to tonight from his wife.

Passing a shell that had the words, 'Here Lies Dobby: a Free Elf' etched upon it, Harry paused for a moment to remember Dobby. Harry felt slightly uneasy as he remembered the day that Dobby had died. It had been his fault, really, that Dobby had gotten killed.

Sensing her husband's weariness, Ginny squeezed his hand in a reassuring way, and gave him a sympathetic look. She knew that still, after all these years, Harry still blamed himself for Dobby's death.

Just as they began walking again, there was a faint 'pop' that disturbed the silence of the night. Looking up, Harry, Ginny, James, Albus and Lily saw George. James and Albus rushed forward to greet their uncle, and laughed as they told him of James' newest prank. Watching them, Harry felt another pang of uneasiness as he looked at his friend. It had been twelve years today that Harry had heard Fred's last joke, and even so, Harry still couldn't get used to seeing George on his own, unaccompanied by his twin.

George looked up and waved to Harry and his little sister, "Hey guys. How was the party? Was it as exuberant as usual, or did they really go overboard?" he asked. He was smiling the same way as he used to, but his eyes betrayed his pain.

Harry couldn't look him in the eye for a moment, so decided instead to look at his daughter, "Yep. It was a blast, although we didn't blow anything up." He said, recalling Fred's funeral, "But you better hurry up and get in there, Angelina didn't look to pleased that you were late again. Victoire was demanding from Bill where you were also. She was pestering Fred, asking if it had anything to do with the shop."

"Poor Fred, he was really irritated too. Complained about how if it _did_ have anything to do with the joke shop, he was going to have to scold you." Ginny said with a laugh, "He's turning out more like Percy than either you or Fred."

"Yes, well, I should have expected it, letting Percy spend time with him when he was younger." George said, although he didn't sound disappointed. Most people who knew him would have thought that he would have been ashamed that his son was following in the footsteps of his other brothers, that was sure to lead to him becoming a Prefect or even a Head Boy, but he was in fact quite proud.

"How come you're always late?" Albus asked, interrupting the adult's conversation.

"Just business, you know?" George replied easily, although Harry noticed his voice carried a note of grief. He decided it was best not to get on this subject. Not at that time, anyway.

"Hey, James, Albus, we had better get going. You two are still grounded for that latest prank you wise guys decided to pull." Harry called to his sons. Disappointed, they turned back to their father and with a last wave to George, the family apparated away. George watched them go; he knew that Harry still felt guilty about Fred no matter what George had said to him. Shrugging, George made his way up to Shell Cottage, where he was greeted by his wife Angelina, who wasted no time in scolding him about how late he was. He grinned at her the typical Weasley-twin-grin and told her she could chastise him later, for the moment, he had a niece to see to.

When they got home, Harry immediately sent James and Albus to their rooms while Ginny tucked Lily in for the night. Harry took a seat on the couch, and pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes.

"I really wish you would stop blaming yourself." Harry heard Ginny tell him, as she took a seat next to him, "If George doesn't blame you for what happened you shouldn't feel guilty. Of all of us, George should get the right to say whether or not it's your fault, and he doesn't –"

"No, he doesn't blame me because we're friends, not because it wasn't really my fault." Harry cut her off miserably, "I know what you're going to say, I've heard it all, from everyone. Fred went into battle knowing what could happen, but decided to fight anyway. You've all said that, about _everyone_ who died in that battle, in that war." Harry felt although ice was running through his veins as he said that, remembering the fallen: Severus Snape, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Hedwig, Dobby, Dumbledore, Sirius, Colin, and Fred. There were more, of course, and Harry's vision swam as he recalled everyone who had died fighting because he had sent them into battle.

"Harry, you can't honestly believe that. _N_one of that was your fault, it was Voldemort's fault! His, and Rookwood's, and all the other Death Eater's who fought for him." Ginny said quietly. Harry looked at her, and through his vision blurred by both tears and lack of corrective lenses, could see her eyes swimming with tears, but she continued anyway, "There would have been more, Harry, had you not stopped Voldemort. We got lucky that we didn't lose more of our family and friends! We're lucky both twins didn't die, and I sure know that if Fred were here right now, he would tell you to stop being so thick, because it wasn't your fault. He probably would say it was his fault, joking the way he was." By now the tears were falling down her face, and Harry couldn't believe what he just heard.

"You blame Fred…?" Harry began, but Ginny was quick to cut him off,

"Of course, and I'm not the only one. I know George agrees with me too, and so does Bill. They're actually the ones who told me this. They said that if Fred hadn't been joking around, he would have seen Rookwood coming; he could have cast a shield charm, or deflected the curse. In a way, it really was his fault, even if the Death Eaters and Voldemort are mostly to blame." Ginny paused, and Harry could tell she hardly believed what she was saying, "But still, knowing that, it doesn't help the pain. I know George still misses him. When we saw him today, as we were leaving Shell Cottage, he looked so miserable. I wanted to go over there and hug him, make it better, but I've tried for 12 years. We all have, and I don't think there's anything we can do."

Harry put his glasses back on so he could look at her properly. She was wringing her hands, and looked worried. "No, there isn't." Harry answered her, he knew of loss, after all. Ginny nodded, still looking somber. She understood better than most of them that Harry knew what if felt like to lose a family member, "I don't think he'll be okay again until he and Fred are reunited." As Harry said those words, he thought of how everyone had been so worried George would do something stupid. It had been silly really to think that, but at the time it had seemed just much too likely. Harry felt bad about having thought that, and he knew that George had just put up with everyone's constant nagging and watching, waiting to prove to them he hadn't gone completely mental. Quite suddenly Harry remembered what George had told him after the funeral, while everyone was still watching him wearily, and listening in.

"He died so all of us could live. He fought, so we could live in a world without Voldemort, so that the survivors could carry on, without looking over their shoulder's every few seconds. It wasn't just him either, everyone who fought against Voldemort – yes, I just said his name, amazing, isn't it? – They all didn't expect to die, but they knew it could happen. They wanted to give the rest of us a chance, and I'm included in that, you know. Fred didn't die just for me to go join him. No, we talked about it once. After the ear incident, we promised each other that if either of us died, then the other would live. Continue the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and live our lives the way they were meant to be lived." George had said, and from the look in his eye, Harry had believed him. Harry could tell that George had taken these words to heart, and had no intention of breaking his promise to his twin, his best friend, and his business partner (or, as they had been in school, his partner in crime). What he had said that day had consoled all the Weasley's, and anyone who had been at Fred's funeral. Harry had just smiled at him, having come to a somewhat similar conclusion himself after Sirius died. Then much to everyone's shock (although they hadn't been blindsided enough that day, what with the way George hadn't followed normal funeral procedures by wearing a violent shade of fiery red robes, insisted on laughing, and blowing up Fred's headstone) George whipped out his wand, and let off a truly amazing firework's show. When asked about it, George had smirked and said, "After my mini speech to the Boy Who Lived/Died/Lived over there, I decided I'd sounded much too serious. This is more in the way of the Weasley Twin tradition."

Harry laughed, earning a strange look from Ginny, "Do you remember what George said at Fred's funeral?" he asked her.

The reaction was interesting. Although she still felt remorse for her dead brother, her face lit up a little bit as she remembered the chaotic event, "Oh yeah, how we need to move on, because that's why he died, so we could." Ginny answered him, "And of course, I remember the firework's afterwards. He really outdid himself that time. They were better than the one's at Hogwarts when they had decided to use them against Umbridge." Ginny laughed then, and Harry laughed too. As he did so, he remembered everyone who had sacrificed their lives for the greater good, from both the first and second war. Somehow, Harry felt although this was a fitting way to remember them: the good times, rather than their death or the bad times.

Harry and Ginny quieted down, and looked at each other, "One of these day's we'll have to tell the kids about Fred." Harry told her, feeling although it was an insult to his memory to keep him a secret. George had already told his kids all the stories about him and Fred growing up, and even a mild tale of his death.

Ginny nodded her agreement and said, "Yes, but for now, let them be at ease, I suppose. I'm still not quite sure what to say, if the truth is to be told."

Harry put his arm around her shoulder and said, "Well I suppose we'll know when the time comes, now won't we?" He was already thinking about what to say, and he knew he would include a couple more people when telling the children about the Uncle they would never meet. He brushed his hair out of his face, and his finger's passed over his lightning bolt scar that had caused him so much trouble. He still felt guilty about every one of those deaths that occurred, but for some reason, he felt a little less guilty than he had earlier that night. Maybe in time he would accept that they weren't entirely his fault, but for the moment, he was just glad to be surrounded by the people who had survived.

* * *

A little way down the hall, James and Albus pulled the newest version of the Extendable Ear's out of their own ears, and turned to each other in confusion. They had been listening in on their parent's conversation, desperate to hear if they would talk about the boys' punishments; but much to their surprise, they ended up with more questions then they had before they began spying.

"So, who's Fred?" James asked his younger brother.

"I have absolutely no idea. I think Mum mentioned him earlier tonight, when she was talking about how our cousin Fred was more like Uncle Percy than his father and someone named Fred…" Albus answered trailing off, frowning with concentration. He looked up at James and shrugged, "Maybe we'll get it out of Mum and Dad one of these days!"

"Yeah, I bet we'll be able to prank it out of them!" James exclaimed excitedly, forgetting for a moment that their parents knew so well some of the greatest pranksters that Hogwarts had ever seen, but with that little fact that they didn't know about (for they hadn't heard the Tales of Fred and George yet), and the with the other having slipped their mind's (the one about Harry being a Marauder's son and Godson), the brother's put their head's together and immediately began plotting their next prank.


End file.
